


The Green Silk Dress

by mrs_leary (julie)



Category: Merlin (TV) RPF
Genre: Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-05
Updated: 2009-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 06:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/304768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julie/pseuds/mrs_leary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bradley has no problem with the idea of escorting Colin to the wrap party… He just wasn’t expecting Colin to be wearing a dress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Green Silk Dress

**Author's Note:**

> This is dedicated to **yorkshirewench** who is wise enough to like boys in eyeliner.

♦

‘It’s not locked!’ Colin called when Bradley knocked.

So Bradley pushed the door open and headed into Colin’s flat. ‘Ready yet, Morgan?’ The combined living room and kitchen were empty. ‘Where are you?’

‘Bedroom.’

He headed down the hall without a second thought, because God they’d already seen each other in every state of undress by now; it wasn’t something actors could afford to get hung up about. ‘Come on, I’m all tuxed up as requested, I’m good to go, and you’re –’

There were two women standing in a huddle in Colin’s bedroom, and no sign of Colin himself. Bradley came to a halt just inside the doorway. _Scrub that,_ he thought. A woman, and a drag queen helping her on with her earrings. Bradley’s stare widened as he took in a few more details. _Uh…_ Colin in a long green dress, with a vividly made–up drag queen helping him on with his earrings.

When Colin saw Bradley gaping, he started grinning fit to burst. ‘What d’you think? Does it work?’

Bradley managed something that sounded suspiciously like a squeak.

The drag queen grimaced dismissively at him, and turned back to adjust Colin’s clip–on earrings. ‘All right, sweetpea? Too tight?’

‘They’re fine,’ Colin said, looking fondly at his friend. ‘Thank you. This is Missy,’ he added. ‘Missy, this is Bradley.’

‘Pleased to meet you, Missy,’ he offered politely. And received a remote lift of the chin for his trouble.

Meanwhile, Colin gathered his skirts and headed over to the full–length mirror. Carefully considered his reflection from his thick dark hair arranged in waves, to his finely made–up face, to his bare pale shoulders, down to the green silk waterfall of the dress. ‘What d’you think?’ he asked both his companions.

‘Sweetpea, you look beautiful.’

Bradley made himself look at the dark scatter of chest hair revealed by the V of the dress, Colin’s too–large hands, his adam’s apple. There was no fooling anyone here: this was a man in a dress. There was something faintly ridiculous about it. But strangely enough, none of that seemed to matter very much… Bradley cleared his throat, knowing that the others were watching him, waiting for his reaction. ‘Yeah,’ he managed. ‘Beautiful.’

Colin’s smile grew soft and fond as his eyes met Bradley’s for a long moment, before returning a happy gaze to the mirror.

‘But,’ Bradley added, ‘you wanna tell me what’s going on? I mean, I know the wrap party has an _Atonement_ theme, and obviously you’re channelling Keira, but… What the heck? And _why_?’

Missy sauntered past him into the hall, muttering as she went, ‘You are _so_ not in her league.’

‘Uh, _thanks!_ ’ he returned, at least managing to put some irony into it. Bradley turned back to Colin. ‘Something you’re not telling me here?’

Colin smiled at him again. ‘No. It’s just – Katie said she’d be going as Cecilia in the green dress. And I said _I_ have the better figure for playing Keira Knightley. So she dared me.’

‘OK, good. You see, _that_ makes sense.’

‘Yeah, I guess it does,’ Colin commented. But he cast Bradley a thoughtful glance, before contemplating his reflection again. Turning mildly speculative.

‘You do look great,’ Bradley offered.

‘Thanks. It’s the real dress!’ Colin was grinning again. ‘The actual one! I hired it from the costume department. It’s going to the Victoria and Albert after this. Of course,’ he added, ‘if I ruin it, I’ll never work in this town again.’

‘Is that what they said?’

‘That’s what they said. A real career–limiting move, that would be.’

Missy came back in. ‘So don’t even think about it,’ she advised Bradley.

‘Think about what?!’ Bradley protested. But he knew what she was getting at.

Colin winked at him.

‘You asked me to wear a tux…’ Bradley slowly said.

‘And you chose well,’ Colin commented, nodding at Bradley’s ensemble.

‘Thanks. I found it at a vintage clothing shop.’ Bradley continued, ‘So I’m your James McAvoy character, aren’t I?’

‘Yeah. D’you mind?’

‘What was his name?’

‘Robbie. Robbie Turner.’

‘I don’t really look like him. And a tux is a tux is a tux.’

‘It’s a _good_ tux,’ Colin insisted. ‘Anyway, it’s not as if I really look like Keira.’

‘Close enough!’

‘I just wanted,’ Colin added very slowly and deliberately, ‘to have the handsomest date in the room.’

Bradley stared at him, wondering.

‘Say it,’ Missy intoned. ‘Say it and she’s yours.’

Bradley flushed with embarrassment and annoyance. He knew exactly what lines he was supposed to deliver. ‘I’m not saying that!’

Colin turned away, perhaps a touch disappointed. Missy went back to being dismissive of him.

‘Well,’ said Bradley. ‘Are we late enough now to make a grand entrance?’

‘I should think so.’

‘Good. I’ll go call for a taxi.’ And he left Missy fussing over some last–moment adjustments to Bradley’s rather unexpected date.

♦

‘Nervous?’ Bradley asked as the taxi pulled up outside the hotel where the party was being held. It used to be a private mansion, which was presumably what helped prompt the _Atonement_ theme. Or had the theme come first? Who knew! Bradley paid the fare, added a large tip, and asked the driver, ‘Give us a minute?’ He turned back to his friend.

Colin was sitting there, very still. ‘Stage fright!’ he said with a bright brittle smile.

‘You do look great,’ Bradley reassured him. ‘I like the make–up. Did Missy do the make–up?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’ll have to pass on my compliments.’ Bradley let his gaze rove over Colin’s face, examining every detail. The make–up was surprisingly subtle. It did nothing at all to disguise his masculinity, but instead enhanced Colin’s own natural beauty. Colin’s eyes had never seemed more bewitchingly blue. ‘Look,’ said Bradley, leaning forward a little. ‘Missy and I got off on the wrong foot. Tell her I was impressed, all right?’

‘All right,’ Colin agreed with that soft fond smile on his lips.

Bradley climbed out of the taxi, and reached a hand back in to help Colin out. ‘Cecilia,’ he said very formally.

‘Robbie.’

And they walked in, holding hands.

♦

Of course Colin was the absolute hit of the whole evening. Everyone adored him. He was met with gasps of shock and delight.

Naturally Katie looked beautiful, though far too voluptuous for the role – and she was a perfect gentleman about being so totally upstaged. She was the first to come over when Bradley and Colin made their entrance. ‘ _Look at you!_ Och, Colin, you gorgeous thing…’ She took Colin’s hands in hers, and appreciatively checked him out, before they exchanged big air–kisses.

Bradley winked at Angel, who looked charming in a tux, apparently playing the part of Katie’s Robbie. ‘You’re looking pretty gorgeous yourself, you hussy.’

Despite the trousers, she dropped him a demure Gwen–style curtsey. ‘Thank you, sire.’

They fronted up for the official photographs: the four of them, and then various combinations of them in pairs. And then at last they were all free to mingle. Colin’s first act was to find a glass of champagne and down the lot. He took it easy after that, though, sipping at a second glass for an hour or more. Everyone came over to talk to him. Bradley shadowed him, keeping out of the way, but not keeping his distance either. The shock was wearing off. Colin’s nerves and Bradley’s shock faded away, and as Colin began to relax and enjoy himself, so did Bradley. Once the music started, Bradley swept in; the first dance was his by right.

Bradley held Colin loosely in a waltz position, and between them they managed to remember the right steps from years–ago classes, with Bradley leading and Colin prompting. Colin wasn’t quite as awkward as Bradley had anticipated; he’d had the sense to wear low heels, for a start, and it didn’t seem to throw him too much that he was doing this backwards. So it didn’t take long before they were confident enough to risk glances at each other, sharing encouraging smiles in between panicked stares at their uncooperative feet.

But just as they were settling into it, Tony cut in. Far too soon. The old bastard glided off round the floor holding Colin close in his arms, making Colin look extraordinarily graceful, demonstrating exactly how it should be done. Bradley had his revenge, though: when Richard cut in and whisked Colin off, Bradley insisted on Tony taking him for a spin, too. But Tony decided on amused rather than chagrined in reaction, so that wasn’t much of a revenge really. Others took their turns with Bradley’s date, but Bradley kept an eye on him – and when Colin started to look like he’d had enough, Bradley drew him away, got them both drinks, and led Colin out onto the terrace.

♦

Colin looked divine in the moonlight. Somehow his eyes were still intoxicatingly blue, and the dress was a miracle of green, despite other colours being bleached out. His cheeks were a little flushed, and at first his lips were slightly parted, but he soon caught his breath again. Colin really had the prettiest mouth; Missy hadn’t needed to trick that up in any way whatsoever. Bradley looked at his friend, his beautiful friend. Trying to remember all the reasons why he’d never followed through on the impulse to kiss the man before. There were so many of them. Reasons why not. He couldn’t think of a single one right now.

‘Bradley –’

‘Colin.’

‘I’m sorry if this is… confusing.’

‘Are you?’

‘No,’ said Colin.

‘You’re beautiful,’ said Bradley, ‘and I’m straight.’

‘Are you?’

‘Well…’ He tilted his head, considering. ‘I’m ninety–five percent straight. I’ve wanted to kiss you before now.’

‘I know.’

‘And you’re… oh, about ninety– _nine_ percent gay, right?’

‘Eighty–seven,’ Colin corrected.

‘The unlucky score!’ Bradley snorted softly. ‘What does that mean? You’re never lucky in love?’

Colin grinned at him. ‘I’m absolutely doomed.’

‘Are you trying to warn me off…?’

Colin just watched him for long moments, considering.

Bradley watched him right back. Now that the shock was past, now they’d both relaxed, it was becoming clearer and clearer to Bradley: ‘I want you.’

‘It’s just the dress.’

‘No, it’s you. I’m looking and looking, and all I see is you.’

‘Bradley –’

‘Is there a library in this place?’

‘Yes.’ Colin’s breath was coming deep and slow. Eventually, in his thickest accent so it took a moment for Bradley to understand: ‘Say it.’

‘Yes.’

‘Say it and I’m yours.’

And holding Colin’s gaze, Bradley quoted Robbie’s disastrous letter from memory, no doubt getting it wrong: ‘ _In my dreams I kiss your cunt, your sweet wet cunt. In my thoughts I make love to you all day long._ ’

Those astonishingly blue eyes were all _come hither_ … Colin turned, and led him inside. The swimmer’s supple back swayed before him, every long muscle and perfectly formed bone delineated under the pale skin, framed by narrow bands of green. The slight curves of Colin’s narrow hips and arse were wrapped in silken folds, and then green billowed and fell around those lean strong legs.

Then they were in the library, it was dark, the door was closed, and Colin was leading him in, further in. ‘Colin…’ he said. They weren’t running lines now. He hadn’t said _Cecilia_.

‘Bradley.’ Not _Robbie_.

Neither of them said _I love you_.

Colin pressed back against the shelves of books; Bradley pressed hard up against him. Kissing him, kissing him with abandon, hands at Colin’s waist.

‘God, I want you,’ Bradley muttered, mouthing at that long throat. ‘I want to have you. Would you let me?’

‘Yes,’ Colin replied, his head already fallen back.

‘God…’ he groaned in despair. ‘I didn’t bring anything.’ Since when did he go to a party without supplies? ‘Colin, d’you…?’

‘No.’ Colin huffed out a laugh. ‘No pockets. No handbag.’

‘God, I want to – I want to –’

‘I know,’ Colin murmured sympathetically.

‘ _I want to make you come!_ ’

‘Oh sweet Jesus, Bradley…’ Colin murmured, wild–eyed.

‘How?’

‘I can’t ruin the dress. We _can’t_ ruin the dress.’

‘I know. I know.’ Desperate times. ‘I’ve got a handkerchief.’ He began fumbling in pockets, forgetting where he’d put it. He’d toss Colin off into that. Keep everything neat and clean. ‘I’ve got to get my hands on you.’

‘Bradley…’

A knock at the door, and they both froze.

‘Colin?’ It was Angel. ‘Colin, they’re doing the costume prize.’

‘We think you’d better be there.’ Katie.

‘Oh God,’ Bradley moaned in real distress. But he forced himself to straighten up. He helped Colin regain his feet and his balance. ‘Come in, then!’ he called.

They did so. They turned on the light. Bradley could hardly bear to look, let alone be seen. To be so unbearably exposed. There was a little huddle – separate from Bradley – as the girls helped Colin tidy his make–up and hair. And then they all walked out together, Katie holding Colin’s hand, and Angel holding Bradley’s.

♦

Colin won. Of course.

♦

Bradley let him have another hour to party, to celebrate, to revel in being so utterly bloody beautiful. And then at last Bradley went right up to him, and murmured in his ear, ‘I wanna take you home now. I want to make love to you. I wanna make you come, Colin Morgan.’

‘Oh thank God!’

He suspected sarcasm. ‘Colin, please –’

A flash of those sincere blue eyes. ‘I was afraid you’d forgotten.’

Bradley shook his head, finding that he’d bitten at his lower lip. _Never._ ‘I’ll call for a taxi.’

♦

They almost fell in through the front door, Colin fumbling with the keys while Bradley wouldn’t let up on the kisses. His hands hungrily running over green silk, cool pale skin. Colin just managing to reach back with one hand to flip the deadlock as Bradley dragged him down the hall.

‘Wait – Wait –’ Colin was muttering as they reached the bedroom, trying rather unconvincingly to push Bradley away. ‘I’ve got to get this dress off.’

Bradley chuckled a bit madly. ‘On any other night that would be music to my ears.’

Colin paused in his unfastening, and looked at him warily while still half–twisted round to reach his back. ‘This _is_ just about the dress, isn’t it?’

‘No… No, of course not.’

‘Bradley…’ Suddenly Colin was sounding apprehensive.

‘It’s been _you_ , all along. I want _you_ , Colin Morgan.’

‘All right,’ he said, though he didn’t seem totally convinced.

Bradley already had his jacket off, his bowtie undone, his shoes heeled off. Instead of starting to unbutton his shirt, he approached Colin, ran his hands down that cascade of green silk one last time, and then started helping Colin with the fastenings. ‘I was just trying to be funny.’

‘Ha ha,’ Colin responded rather flatly.

‘But… I’ve wanted to kiss you before. There’s always been a hundred reasons not to. Tonight, I couldn’t remember any of them.’

The dress was undone now; but Colin held it clutched to his chest, to his waist, rather than letting it fall. ‘What, and the magic’s gonna disappear once the dress is off, and your memory will come back? The dress is like a glamour,’ he sourly observed.

Bradley shook his head, and said very slowly, ‘Nooo…’ He sighed, and cast a speculative glance down Colin’s long beautiful body. ‘What have you got on underneath?’

Colin let out a surprised huff. ‘Half–slip. Stockings and suspender belt. Briefs.’ Another huff, which was almost a laugh. ‘You’re gonna turn around and let _me_ take the briefs off. They’re heavy duty. _Not_ sexy.’

Bradley raised an enquiring eyebrow.

‘To keep everything… tucked away. So I wouldn’t _show_.’

‘Oh my God!’ Bradley blurted out. ‘You’re gonna let _me_ take care of the briefs, Morgan, I’m telling you now. And you’ll leave the rest on…?’

‘All right,’ said Colin.

‘All right, then.’

Colin let the dress fall rippling to the floor.

♦

They hung the dress carefully on the wardrobe door so they’d still be able to see it from the bed. Then Bradley knelt before his friend, and slowly ran his hands up Colin’s stockinged legs, from his thin ankles up the swell of his calves, past his knees, and then up his long thighs, pushing the silk of the slip up as he went. Bradley glanced up at Colin, who was looking down at him intently. ‘All right?’ Bradley murmured.

Colin nodded. Now he was the one biting at his lower lip.

Bradley looked down again, to see the heavy duty briefs. It wasn’t so bad; just a skin–coloured girdle thing. He’d certainly seen worse, and had suffered through long discussions between female friends about the relative vanities of appearing sexy in one’s clothes or in one’s underwear, whether to risk putting a guy off before or after they got him home. Bradley ran fingers in under the waistband, and slowly began peeling it down.

A virile patch of thick dark hair, but then nothing more interesting was revealed – no eager erection, alas – until Bradley reached the top of Colin’s thighs, and discovered that his poor genitals had been tucked away between his legs. He mumbled with inarticulate sympathy. Finally pushed the briefs right down to the floor, and let Colin step out of them with a hand resting on Bradley’s shoulder for balance.

Bradley pushed the slip back up, and tucked the hem of it under the suspender belt, so nothing would come between him and his current goal. He gently teased the quiescent cock and balls out from their hiding place, and watched as the balls settled hefty within their pouch and the cock unfurled, then twitched in interest.

Bradley cast a glance up at Colin. ‘Did I make you hard before? _I_ was hard.’

Colin nodded mutely.

‘Ouch,’ said Bradley. ‘Sorry.’

‘Yeah,’ said Colin, his voice a little rougher than usual now, a little deeper, accent a little thicker. ‘I thought I was gonna implode and die.’

Bradley chuckled. Then he leaned in close, and salved the remembered hurt with his tongue.

Colin groaned, ‘Christ! Bradley…’

He pressed kisses and words against Colin’s cock as it hardened: ‘ _In my dreams – I kiss your cunt – your sweet wet cunt._ ’

‘Bradley, please…’

Colin was already hard now; as hard as Bradley. God, he’d been aching for this for so long… Bradley stood, slipped his arms around that narrow waist, hauled Colin close against him, and kissed that pretty mouth.

‘Bed,’ Colin gasped as Bradley eased back down his throat. ‘Please!’

Sweet confusion as they stumbled over there; Colin lying back but propped up on his elbows, his knees bent and feet flat on the bed; Bradley already kneeling between his thighs, fumbling to unzip his trousers, push them and his boxers out of the way; Colin reaching into the bedside drawers, handing him a condom, reaching down between his own thighs with a dollop of lube; then lying back, both of them breathing frantically, Colin’s hands on Bradley’s arms, bringing him down closer even as Colin pushed his hips up; staring into each other’s eyes, needy and wary and beyond excited now; Bradley guiding himself blind, except that Colin knew just how and where to meet him –

And suddenly they were joined, and Bradley was pushing inside this beautiful beautiful man, Colin groaning up at him, refusing to let their mutual gaze break, those lips parting slutily, Colin’s hands hard on him, demanding, as he lifted himself, those legs wrapping round Bradley’s waist –

‘ _Fuck!_ Colin!’ Bradley almost done already, he could feel the end bearing him down under a hundredweight of pleasure – his hand scrambling to shape itself around Colin’s cock, Colin’s own hand joining his, their fingers dovetailing perfectly – and he managed to hold off just long enough – but then it landed on him –

They were coming together in waves and shudders, messy and beautiful and hot and loud, so close together despite the remaining clothes – entwined together, embedded – Bradley James and Colin Morgan indivisible at last.

♦

Bradley was in a deep doze, utterly complacently comfortable, but he was still aware of Colin getting up to go to the bathroom. When Colin didn’t return within a few minutes, Bradley got up and followed him. He blinked in the light until he could focus on Colin – completely naked now – cleaning the make–up off his face.

Colin smiled at him via the mirror, then turned to do it directly. ‘All right?’ he asked.

‘Yeah. D’you mind if I…?’ He indicated the loo.

‘No, go on.’ Colin turned back around, offering some pretence of privacy. Though he gave a mock sigh, and observed, ‘I guess that means the honeymoon is over.’

Bradley huffed a laugh. When he was done, he washed his hands, and then cuddled up behind Colin, watching him in the mirror over his shoulder. ‘You all right?’ he asked.

‘Yeah.’ And Colin not only gave him a fond smile, but tilted his head and rolled his temple against Bradley’s hair.

Bradley watched as one of his own hands slid higher to shape itself to Colin’s pec, to rub his palm over Colin’s nipple; while the other hand slipped lower to graze down a sharp hipbone. Colin’s cock stirred, and his smile turned a bit wry. ‘Not done yet?’ Bradley asked lightly.

‘Oh, I think I could manage a second helping. If you’re offering.’

Bradley pressed his own interested cock against Colin’s rear. ‘You’re not too sore or anything?’

‘No. But we could try something else anyway.’ When Bradley raised an eyebrow, Colin elaborated, ‘I like frottage, cock against cock.’

‘Sure. We can try that,’ Bradley agreed, all mock worldly.

Colin closed his eyes, and rested his head against Bradley’s. His arms wrapped round himself, and his hands settled on Bradley’s arms where they held him close. Colin whispered, ‘You want me to… wear something?’

‘No, that’s all right.’

‘I don’t know what I’ve got, really. But we could find something. Was it the silk…?’

‘Colin, it’s all right. You’re beautiful like this, the way you are. Let’s try it, just you and me.’

‘Just you and me, and a bit of lube. Not even a condom.’ He sounded quite wistful.

‘Perfect,’ Bradley affirmed with a whole heart.

And finally Colin nodded, and turned around within Bradley’s arms. Those long fingers lifted to start unbuttoning Bradley’s shirt. ‘Let’s get this off you, then,’ Colin murmured.

And it all worked just fine.

♦

And that might have been that, except Colin went down the markets the next morning for fresh bread, eggs and ground coffee beans – and came back with a slinky slutty midnight–blue nightdress. Just some cheap thing he’d got from a second–hand clothes stall. He drew it slowly out of the carry bag, and displayed it against himself. Waggled his eyebrows at Bradley in that sexy silly way unique to Colin Morgan. And Bradley forgot all about breakfast, and instead chased Colin down the hall and back to bed.

That worked fine, too.

♦

It was Sunday and neither had anything planned, so they hung around at Colin’s for the day, with Colin wearing nothing but his blue nightdress. ‘Do you often do this?’ Bradley asked thoughtfully, as they lay sprawled across the bed, recuperating.

‘Do what? Spend half the weekend in bed?’

‘The cross–dressing thing.’

Colin looked at him quite steadily. ‘No. It was just for the party, really.’

Bradley returned his gaze, though with a little more bashfulness. ‘It did something for you, though. Didn’t it? You got a real charge out of it.’ He sighed. ‘ _I_ certainly did.’

‘Well, it was fun. And it was nice to be really appreciated for a change.’ Colin grinned wickedly at him. ‘ _You’re_ probably used to the adulation, Bradley James, so handsome as you are…’

Bradley snorted.

‘The rest of us take it where we can get it.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ he muttered. And he would have offered plenty of reassurance and proof of Colin’s own beauty, if Bradley hadn’t been so concerned about the other issue. He ran a hand down the blue silk, feeling Colin’s planes and slight curves just below his palm. ‘But this dressing–up thing –’

‘I’m not a cross–dresser, Bradley,’ Colin said mildly. ‘Not a transvestite, not a transsexual. Wouldn’t actually matter if I was. But I’m not. I’m just gay. Boring old regular gay.’

‘You did it awfully well last night, for something you’re not used to.’

‘Well. Thank you.’ Colin sighed, knowing that Bradley was yet to have his curiosity satisfied. If that’s what it even was. ‘The only other time I’ve done it is in drama school. Our classes on Shakespeare – everyone cross–dressed. The girls played the male roles, and the guys played the female. Partly because of Shakespeare having only men and boys in his cast. Partly because… we could. It was interesting. And we all had to do a speech of Rosalind’s or Viola’s as our assessment, guys and girls.’

‘You enjoyed all that?’

Colin shrugged. ‘Yeah. Beyond that, a couple of times when I’ve been to a gay club with friends, I’ve worn a bit of eyeliner or whatever. Gone a bit glam, you know? And that’s it, Bradley. That’s all there is to tell.’

And Bradley knew that Colin had just given him the truth, the whole truth, and he trusted Colin entirely. Yet he remained restless and dissatisfied about the issue. And he wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t long before Colin distracted him from his musings, however.

Whatever it was they had here, it really did work perfectly fine.

♦

They were both based in London for the time being, with Colin rehearsing for a short theatre gig and Bradley doing a few voiceovers, so they became inseparable. It wasn’t that they spoke about it, or agreed to anything; they simply spent all their free time together. It was just assumed. And each night found them in Colin’s bed or in Bradley’s, making love with or without items from Colin’s rapidly expanding collection of silk garments.

♦

Colin seemed utterly comfortable about the whole thing. But Bradley couldn’t quit bothering over it. Fretting. Not about the fact that he’d suddenly turned from ninety–five percent straight to one–hundred–and–ten percent gay. Oddly enough, that didn’t feel odd at all. But he kept worrying over the dressing up.

One afternoon, when he was alone in his own flat – as Colin didn’t even have a computer – Bradley spent hours online, researching and pondering. When Colin finally turned up after rehearsals, Bradley announced, ‘I think we’re doing it wrong.’

‘God, is _that_ why my arse is so sore,’ Colin muttered. ‘I _knew_ I shouldn’t have let you…’

‘What?!’ Bradley squeaked.

‘Kidding,’ Colin reassured him, collapsing in the armchair at right–angles to the sofa. His head fell back in apparent exhaustion, but he was looking at Bradley very keenly from under half–fallen eyelids. ‘What are we doing wrong?’

‘Did you know that most cross–dressers are actually straight? And it’s not a sex thing?’

Colin rolled his eyes. ‘I told you all along I’m not a cross–dresser.’

‘Apparently it’s _really_ common. One in ten men do it. Like, it’s this great unspoken secret.’

‘All right,’ Colin said. Humouring him.

‘It can be sorta stress relief, to take a break from the responsibilities of being a man.’

‘Oh yeah. Cos I hear that being a woman is such a lark.’

Bradley shot him a quelling stare. ‘It’s not about wanting to be a woman.’

‘No,’ Colin agreed, ‘that’s transsexuals. Anyway, we’re actors, Bradley. I don’t think either of us needs help getting in touch with our feminine side.’

‘Well, what is it for you, then…?’

An ungainly shrug, with Colin not shifting from his sprawl. ‘Is it really something we need to define?’

‘I’m just trying to – understand.’

‘ _Why?_ I always figured you were the instinctual one here.’

‘If you’re the thinker, Morgan, then why don’t you have a theory about all this?’

Colin looked at him for a long moment. ‘All right. Maybe for us it’s just, like, _toys_. Sex toys. Not actual cross–dressing.’

‘So, it’s nothing more than a bit of fun. Like a game.’

Another shrug. ‘Yeah. Isn’t it?’

‘Sure.’ And Bradley looked away, no longer wondering why he was fretting so. He knew why now.

He wanted it all to be real.

♦

The thinking was sheer hard work. But eventually it was over, and Bradley put the worrying aside. Which was when he searched through the pile of torn paper, post–it notes, restaurant napkins and beer mats that served as Colin’s address book. And he called Missy.

♦

Colin was late coming home that afternoon. So late that Bradley gave up waiting by the old fireplace, and instead sat on the sofa, though it spoiled the overall impact of the scene. So late, in fact, that Bradley must have dozed off, for the next thing he knew, Colin was murmuring, ‘Hey, Bradley…’ and it was evening. The lamp was on, creating a golden glow surrounded by twilight. Bradley lifted his head from the sofa arm, and found Colin on one knee on the floor beside him. His own Colin Morgan, who always knew what to do with a prompt: Bradley had left his own tux out, and Colin had obligingly changed into the trousers and shirt, with the bowtie hanging loose round the collar. More than that: he’d put on eyeliner, and his blue eyes were afire.

‘Colin…’ Bradley murmured.

They stared at each other for long moments. Then Colin helped Bradley to his feet, and with a few quick light gestures helped smooth and rearrange his clothes. The short loose white slip–dress. The long white veil over his subtly made–up face. The bouquet he now held demurely in both hands. Underneath, the stockings and suspender belt; that had seemed important. He wasn’t wearing briefs, though. In fact, he wasn’t wearing anything else, and already he was showing, his cock unashamedly eager in Colin’s presence.

‘You are so very beautiful,’ Colin breathed.

‘Colin,’ he murmured again, surrendering himself. ‘Colin Morgan.’

‘Bradley James.’ Colin dipped his head for a moment, then looked at Bradley oh–so–directly. And he pledged, ‘I do.’

‘I do, too.’

Colin smiled, soft and loving. Gestured at the veil. ‘May I?’ And when Bradley nodded, Colin carefully lifted it up and over Bradley’s head to fall down his back. And then he leant in close, and they kissed. Reverently.

But it was all too superbly wonderful to remain serious for long. When Colin eased away, Bradley broke into a grin. ‘Be gentle with me…’ he whispered.

Colin grinned, too. ‘Only as gentle as I need to be.’

‘Wicked man!’ Bradley retorted. It wasn’t a complaint.

♦

Colin had the composure of a saint, the patience of a devil. He didn’t take Bradley’s virginity until Bradley was so well prepped that he was _begging_ for it. And then Colin moved over him, moved within him, slow and loving and intent for what seemed like hours, until at last Bradley fell apart. The end welled up and flowed through him like a waterfall of silk, all cool greens, until he lost himself in white, and the only way back was to think of astonishingly blue eyes and midnight–black hair and the prettiest pink mouth he’d ever seen. He caught at the dark thread of Colin’s earthy Irish mutterings, and followed where it led. Found his own lean swimmer lying there with him; surrendered himself all over again; and together they submerged.

♦

‘I mean it, you know,’ Bradley said very quietly afterwards. ‘I’m not just playing.’

‘I know. I mean it, too.’ Colin sighed. ‘I’m really not lucky in love, though. I’ll doom us both.’

‘Your luck’s changed.’

‘I hope it has… Bradley…’ Colin suddenly moaned throatily, ‘Oh, sweet Jesus…’ Colin’s hands running down white silk, rumpling it up to seek out Bradley again.

‘It’s not just the dress?’ Bradley asked, though he already knew the answer.

‘No, it’s you. It’s _you_. All I see is you, Bradley.’

♦

They visited the Victoria and Albert Museum one day, and wandered through the fashion exhibits until they found it on display: Keira Knightley’s green silk dress… They stood there staring at it for a long while, remembering.

Then Bradley said, ‘You wanna create a scandal?’

Colin grinned, and looked around. ‘Sure. Is there a library here…?’

Bradley laughed. ‘Idiot. Just kiss me. Kiss me now.’

‘It was always about the dress, wasn’t it?’

‘The dress just helped me see you for who you really are.’

Colin watched him for long moments. Finally he asked, a bit hushed and wary, ‘Who’s that, then?’

‘My lover,’ said Bradley. ‘My love.’

And Colin cupped Bradley’s face in both hands, and pledged himself all over again with a kiss.

♦


End file.
